Open Wounds
by Trickssi
Summary: [Greatly revised] Set during the first Order. When Remus is injured by Fenrir Greyback, who's really to blame? SBRL. No blatant spoilers. Reviews coveted.
1. Trigger

OPEN WOUNDS

Chapter 1: Trigger

Author: Trickssi

Rating: T

Warnings: Er... minor spoilers from OotP on, but you know them already.

Dedication: Fenny... er, Fenrir Greyback.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, because if I did, Remus wouldn't have gotten you-know-what with you-know-who (not as exciting as the real You-Know-Who) in the first place.

Other: This is the revamped version of Open Wounds, with a little bit more promise than the last drabble. Because I caved to several requests... Even if you think you've read this piece, you haven't, because I've changed chapter one on you. Myeh!

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I smelled female—female child, the traces of first menstruation pouring from between her legs. She was young; seemed to be too young for that sort of development, but her ethnicity would have explained that. Ten and a half. Juicy, plump skin that begged to be torn. This is my feast.

I ran, feeling the logs crunch beneath my feet as easily as a femur. This forest was mine to begin with. She should not have trespassed, but now that she had, she was entirely mine. She didn't even see my form as I stalked around the trees near her.

"Hello? M-mummy? Is that you?" she cried softly. Ah, a lost child, even better. They tell them now never to move from one spot when they get lost instead of finding a way out. She'd never dare run now. Perfect, the trap, perfect.

"Hello, little girl," I growled, my voice a murmur of its usual human tone. She wouldn't understand it anyway. I'd just huff, puff, and scratch her body to pieces.

She shrieked, wanton child, for her mother, and tried to scramble up a tree. Useless. I caught at her leg—

I felt jaws at my own left ankle, pulling me back and away. This was no human vice. I smelled werewolf—I had been ignorant in my lust. I turned around.

There were the familiar hazel-brown eyes. It was the one victim I managed to speak to before mauling—Remus Lupin, son of John Lupin, who happened to get on my bad side years ago. Now this weak boy was trying to rip apart my leg in order to save some human girl.

This one never understood. He never lived enough in the wilderness to understand his nature; he never killed or hurt a single being. Instead, he turned it on himself and became a wreck. They said he's trying to conceal it, but nobody can blind me, blind Fenrir Greyback.

I kicked him off me, wheeled around and bit a string of marks into his front arm. And the weakling howled. In his rest, I began to track the girl's scent again, but could not feel her near me. I could not feel her at all.

I was again pushed against the forest brush by the young werewolf's jaw. For being such a pathetic wolf, he naturally possessed more strength than I had planned for. I cursed as he nearly pinned me down. But I laughed. I couldn't help mocking his near-victory. "Back for more, Lupin?"

He growled, but could not speak.

"I'll make you sorry, then."

He thrashed with all his might, but there was no method to him at all. He hadn't the instincts, or wasn't using them, to seriously injure me. A mistake for him. I remember swiping across his face pretty good—that mark would stay on his nose forever, to match the one on his back from years ago.

But all plans have flaws.

This one was when I freed my right paw to swipe at his nose; he came at the left and gauged a chunk out of my left forearm. I raged. This would have been where my Dark Mark went…

"You'll pay for this! I'll get you to pay for your father's crime, Lupin, if it's the last thing I do!" I shouted at him. I bit hard into his shoulder right at the juncture. He shuddered—I must have hit the jugular. Though the blood covered the leaves and my fur and most of Lupin's body, I continued to pummel him until he lay prone on the ground. That should have taught him… That should have taught him.

I pursued the girl until the dawn came; but it was no use, as she had hidden away in the suburbs.

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A/N: Please review! It only takes a little time and it makes my day in the process. 


	2. Crosshairs

Chapter 2: Crosshairs

Author: Trickssi

Rating: T

Warnings: Er... minor spoilers from OotP on, but you know them already.

Dedication: Kingsley Shacklebolt. He's just teh awesome.

Oh yeah, and I don't own any of these characters, because if I did, Remus wouldn't have gotten you-know-what with you-know-who (not as exciting as the real You-Know-Who) in the first place.

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"Four letter word for 'pile of one's belongings…'"

After a few moments of pondering, Kingsley stopped stroking his chin and proclaimed, "Junk."

"Really!" Sirius exclaimed. "It fits, but I was thinking more like s—"

BAM. Hurried footsteps approached the room. Wands raised, Kingsley and Sirius headed for the door. When the door opened, the intruder appeared to be a badly mauled puppet of Remus Lupin.

"—Shit," Sirius finished quietly. "Er, Sirius Orion Black, owner of the one and only flying motorbike. Patronus first conjured at the age of fourteen," he said instead.

"And Kingsley Shacklebolt, lynx—state your info, Remus!"

"Remus John Lupin," he panted, sweat dripping into his eyes.

"Don't make me ask the question, Remus," Sirius begged, wanting desperately to take a rag to his poor, gaping wounds.

"—Pink camisole—the answer, dea—Sirius." At those words, Sirius leapt to his side and aided him in sitting in the nearest chair.

"Kingsley! Get Lily, _NOW_!" he ordered. The terse black figure quickly did as he was told, leaving Sirius to cast a few quick cleaning spells before sacrificing his handkerchief to a wound.

"_Shite_, Remus. Bloody, buggering shite!" he shouted. "Has it ever been this bad?"

Remus heaved a sigh before answering, "No—'s because of another—one of my own when I was in the woods…" The enormous gashes on his arms, face, and terrifyingly, his neck, revealed a fierce struggle.

"Merlin's beard… Who was it?" Sirius felt a pang of guilt for not having been there the previous night to ward off the effects of his lycanthropy. Normally, he'd have been right with him, but Dumbledore had expressly forbidden it, so Sirius ended up forgetting. Remus's constant absence didn't help, either, but it would be the first and last time he'd forget a full moon.

"I am _so_ grateful that you didn't come last night," Remus began, his eyes closed. "There was… I could hear a child running for her life, and I could smell the werewolf on her trail, and—Before I knew it, I was toe to toe with Greyback."

Another intense wave of fear pummeled Sirius's gut. "_The_ Greyback? Fenrir Feckin' Greyback?"

"The same," Remus answered with punctuation. For a long moment, he opened his eyes to gaze into his companion's. "He wasn't going to kill me."

"Oh, sure, I believe that. That was some dangerous thing you did. You shouldn't have been _near_ any other werewolves, much less…"

"Sirius. He wasn't going to kill me," he said firmly. "He told me, and I figure it was best by his twisted methods, that he'd rather I suffer with this torment and pain because I have denied myself human flesh. How absurd, how…."

"… Primal."

"Yes." Remus felt Sirius's hands over his, and sighed. This was Sirius's way of letting him know he was safe, sane, and deeply cared for. Touch had always been the communication. And, oh, he secretly loved being held by any part of this man.

The door burst open, and Lily's long red hair whipped around as she ran to Remus's side. "Remus!" she called. "Are you all right? I mean—what's my patronus?"

"Silver doe. What's my nickname?"

"—Pink _camisole_?" Kingsley interjected from the hall. Sirius shot him a look.

"That's not under the same question!" he yelled.

"What _is_ it under, then, Sirius? What indeed?" Kingsley laughed loftily. Sirius was beet red, and Sirius was the type to simply _not_ blush.

"Shut it, you great twat!" He chucked his half-finished crossword at the doorway. It garnered whimpers of conceit, but laughter all the same.

"MOONY," Lily said clearly through the din.

"Thank you," Remus replied. "They're such children, honestly…" They watched Kingsley exit the area, and went back to glaring at Sirius.

"… _What_? Shall I tell him that your phrase is 'lacy thong,' my absolute _darling_?" he asked acerbically. Lily rolled her eyes to avert Remus's embarrassment.

"All right, all right, I'm here for stitching," she said in defeat. Remus proffered his arm and sat back as she transfigured her pen into a surgically threaded needle. Really, it took talent. "My, what happened this time?"

Unblinking, he said, "Got out of control again."

"Are… are you sure you're okay, Remus? I haven't seen you much and you look thin."

"And _you're_ sounding like Molly. Get off him—he's exhausted," Sirius said, if for nothing but to distract Lily from the truth.

It may have been the truth of Fenrir Greyback, or the truth as to why Remus was gone. Sirius wouldn't know, couldn't say. Remus was never home anymore and that was suspicious in itself. Not to mention he hadn't been leaving notes stuck to the cereal bowls for a month now, or that he almost avoided Order meetings altogether. But Sirius could not speak calumnies of unfaithfulness. He would never dream of it. He could make these little sacrifices for a while.

When Lily was finished, she kissed the top of Remus's tawny head and left with a bounce in her step. Sirius's lips almost met Remus's in the silence that followed, but the injured man backed up to say, "Not here. Wait until home."

Sirius wanted so badly to scream, "What do you mean until 'home,' it's just my house, and you're never there and I feel invisible to you!" or, "Which means wait till I'm Queen Elizabeth," or, "Sod off," but he let it bubble within him.

In the next instant, Remus said, "Five o'clock, be home, I'll make dinner and you can decide how long it takes to make dessert…" He stood, and headed abruptly out the door that led to the kitchen, where he could already smell Molly's infamous Wednesday breakfast.

Sirius wasn't hungry; all he knew was that he wasn't sure whether to feel privileged or disappointed. But his thoughts were interrupted by Kingsley, who strode back into the room with the crossword now almost complete.

"Five letter word for 'My comrade gave me the perfect answer to this crossword and I smacked him in the face with the thing in return?'"

"Sorry," Sirius said. There was no way to make it clever.

"Damn right you're sorry," Kingsley agreed. "It's actually, 'Muggle method of seduction,' five letters."

"Er…" His mind played with various obscene images. Handcuffs—no. Flowers—no. Wine—no. Perfume—no. Thong—how did that get in there? No. Wait. "Moons?"

"Oh, no, I got it. It's actually vodka."

Laughing hesitantly, Sirius stated, "So it is. Who'd think…" Which was stupid to begin to say, because he knew it was because he couldn't stop thinking about disheveled, bleeding Remus. "Hey, you're not allowed to finish my puzzle."

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A/N: 'Kay, let's try this again. Review please? I can't promise cookies, but there will be something in it for you! 


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